Farewell to the Rainbow Pig

A couple of weekends ago I went for a ride in the Cotswolds with an assorted group of internet-abusing cycling nerds. Surprisingly, I wasn't always left behind in spite of their impressive physiques and new shiny bikes. Instead of the semi-defunct singlespeed, I took my ancient(ish) orange 1997 Norco Bomber.

But on one bouncy, twisty, rooty downhill section, I felt a spray of liquid on my calf. Looking down, I saw that they shock-absorber from my bike was spraying fluid from a leak, and I felt that the bike lost its rear suspension. The bike's eleven years old now; I bought the frame second-hand while on holiday in Whistler in 1998. In spite of emailing the manufacturers of the shock absorber and their agents in the UK, it seems like it's irreparable, so that's the end for the bike. It has a serious design fault, anyway, which splits the cup in which the blank end of the shock absorber fits. I've bodged it together with a Jubilee clip, but it's not ideal. Norco recognised that fault, and in 2003 they sent me a replacement free of charge, but I never got around to fitting it as I thought that the same would only happen again.

And why did I name it the Rainbow Pig?

It's because I fitted parts from my spares bin to the frame to get it up and running quickly, and I didn't worry about its appearance. Although it's not immediately apparent in this photo, at one time it had the orange frame, yellow forks, green mudguard, blue bottle, a red saddle and purple bars. The closest I could get to indigo was the peacock of the saddle-bag. Pretty, it wasn't, but it did the job. And now the bike's defunct. It's a shame, as it was a fun bicycle: probably the only one of its kind in the UK.


:o(

Wildlife

Walking in the evening by the disused canal just outside of Stroud with Barbara, we saw three foxes. Two were cubs. As they were safely the other side of the canal, they crouched low in the grass and watched us watching them.


This morning, as I lifted the lid of the compost bin to dispose of some kitchen waste, I saw the slow-worm again. It was about a foot long, slender and shiny, black and burnt brown, beautiful.


:o)

Into the Woods

Moonface & I went to see a production of Into the Woods last night, a musical run by the University of Bristol's drama queens, and very good it was, too. We were invited along by friends, parents of one of the cast members; a tall, willowly model-like girl with everything going for her.

The storyline in the musical was curious, with a first half that would have stood alone and yet felt complete; followed by a second part which turned darker and deconstructed the happy ending of the first. There was no happy ending, as most of the cast were killed off by an unseen giant, so it wasn't exactly a feelgood show.

However, we enjoyed the singing, the acting, the show, but I felt a curious ambivalence about the cast and audience who were very much the representatives of Britain's new gilded youth, from a more privileged and lucky background than were present in our day, with different voices, too. Or was that a reflection of this particular subsection of the University's students, with these being arts students with time to spend on non-study activities?

;o]

Moselle

The cool grey of yesterday's water reminded me of a wonderful swim last summer; in the Moselle near Nancy. Kaa's brother-in-law's cabin is perched just above the river, with a wild garden running down to the banks. I'm no good at relaxing in the sun, and my conversational French was not good enough that day, so I swam. The Moselle was turbid and muddy, running deep close to the banks, and fast enough for me to have to swim strongly against the current to maintain my position. Yet still, it was a cool, relaxing place to watch the occasional barge go by, with small fish in the shallows, and to spend some time on my own.

If only I had foreseen the arguments and turmoil of the coming evening.............


;0]

First swim

Making the most of this run of warm, sunny weather, I cycled to the Lake after work for my first official swim of the year. I write "official" because I took the chance of a quick dip in late April after a few hours with a working party, clearing the edges of the Lake before the start of the season. Then, too early in the year, the water was cold, only 13C, so I had to steel myself to enter and only managed a couple of widths - say 50m - before struggling to the side all mottled pink and blue. I felt ashamed to manage so little, as there were two women who were gaily breast-stroking up and down and chatting together, but they were experienced in cold water, and had even travelled to Finland in winter to try their constitutions at ice-swimming. I don't know how they managed it.

Today, by contrast, the water had reached 18c, and the Lakeside was busy with the after-work and after-school crowd all around the perimeter, making the most of the sun. I managed an easy but slow 300m, not too bad for the first swim of the year, then cycled home again. Two of my cycling chums were also around: a good social start for a good social summer, I hope.


:0)

Irony

No comment needed.


:(

Ozymandias

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things.
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
'My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Percy Bysshe Shelley.

This is one of the poems which I half-remember from school, and from which I can quote odd lines. I remember it whenever I see how insubstantial are the works of man, and how raw nature takes over whenever given the chance. I think that in this instance, the memory was prompted by seeing how detritus is accumulating and plants are growing, at the unused entrance to a garage opposite our bedroom window.

:o)